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THE  BOOK  OF  THE  DANCE 


THE  BOOK  OF  THE  DANCE 

ARNOLD  GENTHE 


INTERNATIONAL  PUBLISHERS 
Eight  Beacon  Street  -  -  Boston,  Massachusetts 

1920 


COPYRIGHT,   1916,  BY  ARNOLD  GENTHE, 


FOREWORD 


When  I  decided  to  publish  in  book  form  the  pictures  of  the 
dance  which  I  had  made  during  the  last  few  years,  my  object 
was  not  to  make  a  book  of  personalities.  I  merely  wanted  to 
show  some  of  the  phases  of  modern  dance  tendencies  that  could 
be  recorded  in  a  pictorially  interesting  manner.  This,  therefore, 
is  meant  to  be  just  a  picture  book,  permanently  recording  some- 
thing of  the  fugitive  charm  of  rhythmic  motion,  significant  ges- 
ture and  brilliant  color  which  the  dance  has  once  more  brought 
into  our  lives. 

The  pictures,  arranged  simply  in  groups,  are  even  w^ithout 
titles.  What  they  are  intended  to  convey  would  not  have  been 
helped  by  labels. 

That  some  of  our  most  distinguished  artists  have  had  suffi- 
cient confidence  in  my  camera  to  let  me  photograph  them  in 
their  dances  is  something  for  which  I  am  deeply  grateful.  For 
their  patience  and  enthusiasm,  without  which  these  pictures 
could  not  have  been  made,  I  wish  to  thank  them  most  heartily. 
And  likew^ise  do  I  wish  to  thank  those  lesser  known  and  un- 
known artists — among  whom,  perchance,  may  be  found  the 
great  dancer  of  the  future — for  having  made  it  possible  for  me 
to  obtain  pictures  expressing  something  of  the  grace  and  fluency 
of  dance  motion. 

Modern  ballroom  dancing  is  not  represented.  That  will  have 
to  wait  until  women  can  have  dancing  partners  attired  in  other 
costumes  than  the  straight,  stiff,  dismal  black  of  the  present  day. 

That  it  has  been  possible  to  include  some  of  my  color  photo- 
graphs will  add  to  the  interest  of  the  book.  I  wish  to  thank 
Mr.  Charles  Beck,  Jr.,  of  the  Beck  Engraving  Company,  Phila- 


delphia,  for  the  care  and  skill  with  which  he  has  solved  the 
difficult  tisk  of  transferring  the  color  plates  to  paper. 

The  reproduction  of  the  monochrome  photographs  and  the 
printing  of  them  was  entrusted  to  the  firm  of  Edward  Stern  csP 
Company,  Inc.,  Philadelphia.  Even  if  a  reproduction  can  never 
have  all  the  qualities  of  the  original,  their  attempt  to  preserve 
in  each  plate  the  spirit  of  the  original  print  deserves  great  credit. 

To  all  those  who  have  helped  to  make  the  book  what  I  had 
intended  it  to  be,  I  herewith  express  my  thanks. 

ARNOLD  GENTHE 


THE  BOOK  OF  THE  DANCE 
I 

ISADORA  DUNCAN  SCHOOL 

FRONTISPIECE  AND  PAGES  TWENTY-ONE  TO  FORTY-FIVE 

II 

MAUD  ALLAN 
PAGE  FORTY-NINE 

III 

RUTH  ST.  DENIS  AND  HER  SCHOOL 

PAGES  FIFTY-THREE  TO  EIGHTY-SEVEN 

IV 

LADY  CONSTANCE  STEWARTRICHARDSON 

PAGES  NINETY-ONE  TO  NINETY-FIVE 
V 

LILLIAN  EMERSON 

PAGES  NINETY-NINE  TO  ONE  HUNDRED  AND  FIVE 

VI 

LOIE  FULLER  DANCER 

PAGE  ONE  HUNDRED  AND  NINE 

VII 

THE  MORGAN  DANCERS 

PAGES  ONE  HUNDRED  AND  THIRTEEN  TO  ONE  HUNDRED  AND 

NINETEEN 


VIII 

SPANISH  DANCERS 

PAGES  ONE  HUNDRED  AND  TWENTY'THREE  TO  ONE  HUNDRED  AND 

TWENTY-SEVEN 

IX 

THE  NOYES  SCHOOL 

PAGES  ONE  HUNDRED  AND  THIRTY-ONE  TO  ONE  HUNDRED  AND 

FORTY-ONE 

X 

CLASSIC  DANCERS 

PAGES  ONE  HUNDRED  AND  FORTY-FIVE  TO  ONE  HUNDRED  AND 

SIXTY-SEVEN 

XI 

ANNA  PAVLOWA 

PAGES  ONE  HUNDRED  AND  SEVENTY-ONE  TO  ONE  HUNDRED  AND 

EIGHTY-NINE 

XII 

THE  BIYAR  SCHOOL 

PAGES  ONE  HUNDRED  AND  NINETY-THREE  TO  TWO  HUNDRED 

AND  NINE 

XIII 

ECLECTIC  DANCERS 

PAGES  TWO  HUNDRED  AND  THIRTEEN  TO  TWO  HUNDRED  AND 
TWENTY-SEVEN 


ON  WITH  THE  DANCE 

SHAEMAS  O  SHEEL 

Of  all  the  temples  of  the  arts,  deep-buried  in  the  sands  of 
desert  days,  the  deepest  lost,  the  most  forgotten,  has  been  that 
of  the  dance.  There  is  a  peculiar  significance  in  this,  for  dancing 
is  the  most  elementary  of  the  arts  and  most  truly  the  heritage 
of  all  the  children  of  men  ;  that  it  of  all  has  been  most  nearly 
irrecoverable  epitomises  the  tragedy  of  the  general  turning' 
away  from  art.  And  it  is  characteristic  of  the  conditions  upon 
which  the  arts  may  return  that  this  most  democratic  of  them 
all  has  returned  to  us  by  way  of  a  few  devoted  artists.  We  can 
re-create  an  ancient  art  in  modern  times  not  in  ancient  ways, 
but  in  modern  ;  that  which  under  natural  conditions  was  de- 
veloped by  all  the  people  must  under  artificial  conditions  be 
restored  by  a  few  who  shall  be  teachers. 

The  revival  of  the  dance  is  significant  of  the  abiding,  though 
much  forgotten,  need  of  the  world  for  its  arts,  and  a  proof  of 
the  strange  immortality  of  the  arts  themselves.  A  few  years  ago 
several  great  dancers  came  to  summon  the  world,  who  must 
have  prepared  through  long  periods  separately  and  without  a 
common  plan ;  yet  with  the  effectiveness  of  premeditated  simul- 
taneity they  appeared,  as  it  were  in  a  company.  And  the  re- 
sponse of  a  world  still  hungering,  somewhat  dimly,  for  the  arts, 
was  the  welcome  we  give  to  an  advent  long  desired. 

Fortunate  were  those  whose  introduction  to  this  momen- 
tous movement  came  by  way  of  the  greatest  of  its  exponents, 
Isadora  Duncan.  It  was  one  of  the  great  hours,  of  which  we 
have  but  three  or  four  in  a  lifetime,  when  we  first  saw  her.  In 
that  hour  we  sensed  the  manifold  meanings  and  implications  of 
the  dance  ;  its  ecstasies,  inspirations,  and  healing  beneficences, 


X  ON  WITH  THE  DANCE 

and  its  possibly  unimaginable  importance  to  the  modern 
world. 

The  dancing  of  Isadora  Duncan  is  great  symbolic  art ;  now, 
when  perhaps  we  have  seen  it  tor  the  last  time,  we  must  un- 
hesitatingly re -affirm  our  conviction  that  it  is  one  of  the  super- 
lative artistic  expressions  ot  eternal  spiritual  glories.  Her 
endowment  is  no  mere  talent  for  the  consummation  of  exterior 
beauties ;  it  is  genius.  She  is  a  seer  and  a  prophet,  fulfilled  of 
understanding  and  wisdom.  The  deep  disease  of  the  soul,  its 
wasting,  anemic  illness  since  it  ate  of  the  weeds  of  prudery  and 
went  wandering  on  the  hard  roads  of  materialism,  is  known  to 
her,  and  she  has  a  great  pity ;  and  w^ith  devoted  effort,  through 
consecrating  trials  ot  toil  and  rejection,  she  has  fitted  herself  to 
be  a  physician  of  the  spirit.  She  brings  us  pure  wine  from  an 
ancient  vineyard,  and  she  will  not  mingle  with  it  any  sharp 
strange  bitters  to  sting  our  jaded  taste.  In  her  manner  is  noth- 
ing either  ot  decadence  nor  of  gigantic,  splendid  but  agonizing 
dramaturgy.  She  is  ot  the  company  ot  those  who  have  held  to 
the  slender  infragible  thread  of  the  eternal  tradition  of  beauty. 
And  coming  so,  she  startles  our  spiritual  memories  from  a  sleep 
of  centuries. 

What  glorious  things  she  makes  the  soul  remember!  Once 
we  were  young,  and  the  leaping  blades  of  our  desire  striking 
the  granite  facts  of  life  lit  lively  fires  of  wonder.  We  were 
simple,  so  that  when  the  moving  beauty  of  nature  and  the  joy 
of  each  other's  company  stirred  us  to  ecstasies,  we  sought  free 
and  natural  expression ;  we  danced — we  danced  as  the  move- 
ments of  waves  and  branches,  and  as  the  exquisite  beauties  of 
our  own  bodies  suggested.  Such  memories  she  evokes  by  her 
subtle  gestures  and  movements,  which  are  as  the  dancing  of  a 
leaf  over  the  ground,  as  the  drifting  of  mist  over  the  still  surface 


ON  WITH  THE  DANCE  xi 

of  a  lake  at  dawn.  The  morning  of  time  dawns  upon  our  spirits 
again,  and  once  more  we  have  a  sense  that  hears  the  gods. 

Watching  her  we  see  the  soul  of  man  moving  in  the  dance  of 
destiny ;  dreaming,  hoping,  aspiring,  questioning ;  thrilling  with 
desire  and  joy  and  melancholy,  crushed,  purged  and  raised  again ; 
the  spirit  of  man  enduring  its  trials  and  triumphing  in  the  great 
adventure.  This  is  the  interpretation  of  life  by  the  intuitive 
wisdom  of  genius,  which  is  feeling  confirmed  by  thought,  and 
which  understands  that  the  ultimate  of  human  apprehension  is 
a  mysticism  impossible  of  interpretation  save  in  symbolic  art. 

We  may  never  see  Isadora  Duncan  again,  but  we  can  never 
lose  the  memory  of  that  splendid  feminine  body,  voluptuous  yet 
agile,  graceful ;  that  solitary  figure  in  the  impressive  emptiness  of 
the  stage,  before  the  stately  hangings  that  reached  up,  up  to  a 
lost  dimness  of  height,  like  the  primeval  forests,  moving  in  the 
weird  light,  in  the  little  space  of  grey  radiance,  exquisite,  mys' 
terious ;  barefooted,  v/ith  draperies  fluttering  aw^ay  from  stren- 
uous legs  and  perfect  shoulders  and  arms  "curving  like  a  precious 
chaplet  from  finger  to  throat,"  swaying,  running,  drifting,  the 
perfection  of  rhythmic  motion,  visible  music !  We  can  never 
lose  the  impress  of  her  art  on  our  spirits,  for  did  she  not  invade 
the  soul  with  terrible  tumult,  melt  the  heart  in  tears  too  deep 
for  weeping,  and  hold  us  rapt  while  our  emotions  rose  from  un- 
sounded  depths  to  surge  and  flow?  The  true  purgation  of  trag- 
edy,  the  ecstatic  creation  of  joy,  this  was  her  art,  than  which 
there  has  never  been  a  greater. 

But,  lest  the  austerity  of  Isadora  Duncan's  appeal  should  leave 
some  cold,  the  good  angel  of  the  dance  has  not  lacked  other  in- 
carnations of  quite  different  kind.  Thus  the  delicate  art  of  Ruth 
St.  Denis  is  frankly- avowed  dramatic  dancing,  brief  acts  amid 
illustrative  stage -settmg'^cind  a  supporting  company.   And  in- 


xn 


ON  WITH  THE  DANCE 


stead  of  the  tradition  lengthening  down  from  Hellas,  she  has 
entered  into  the  spirit  of  the  Orient.  With  fine  intelligence  and 
exquisite  art,  she  interprets  ways  of  thought  and  feeling  which, 
by  their  vast  superficial  diifercnce  from  our  own,  stir  our  imag- 
ination into  a  discovery  of  fundamental  unity ;  the  drama  of 
mood  and  passion  and  destiny  everywhere  the  same.  We  draw 
near  to  thestrange,  sensuous,  sacrificial  East — the  East  where  sac- 
rifice is  garlanded  and  veiled  in  sensuousness.  In  the  austerity 
of  the  Yogfs  attainment  there  is  known  the  secret  presence  of 
sensuous  beauty,  as  though  it  would  not  be  denied  a  part  in  any 
service  of  truth ;  and  the  gross  atmosphere  of  the  Nautch  revels 
betrays  a  feverish,  futile  effort  to  escape,  in  the  obvious  and 
carnal,  the  inevitable  presence  of  sacrifice  in  the  innermost  soul 
of  each  reveller.  This  is  Ruth  St.  Denis'  distinctive  contribu- 
tion to  the  art  of  the  dance — this  and  much  interpretative  in- 
telligence and  grace  and  beauty  of  motion.  With  what  startling 
reality  she  invests  the  ancient  mystery  of  Egypt ;  and  with 
what  singular  power  she  has  penetrated  deeper  than  the  care- 
fully designed  surfaces  of  Japanese  life,  catching  the  human 
emotion  and  eternal  drama  beneath !  Her  art,  growing  in  power 
and  beauty,  is  one  of  the  compelling  influences  in  the  modern 
dance. 

Even  farther  reaching,  of  deeper  significance  and  of  wider 
appeal  has  been  the  influence  of  the  Russian  ballet.  The  tech- 
nique of  the  old-time  ballet,  as  it  persisted,  little  changing,  for 
centuries,  was  an  artificial,  in  a  sense  a  deformed  and  unhealthy 
technique.  Originally  the  ballet  dancer  was  a  light  entertainer 
only,  catering  to  our  indolent,  post-prandial  moods.  But  the 
Russian  ballet  has  created  and  developed  a  greatly  intensified 
art,  capable  of  bewildering  and  charming  variety.  It  has  le;irned 
to  use  the  honest  flat  foot  as  well  as  the  mincing  toe,  and  to 


ON  WITH  THE  DANCE  xra 

develop  dramatic  emotion  by  direct  methods  of  infinitely 
greater  power  than  its  erstwhile  stilted  conventions.  Perhaps 
most  important  of  all,  it  has  been  the  means  of  flooding  our 
drab  world  with  the  thrilling  colors  of  Leon  Bakst's  barbaric 
imagination.  The  supple  Mordkin,  the  flashing  Nijinsky,  the 
adorable  Karsavina,  have  given  life  to  strange  emotions  of  our 
time ;  to  our  revolt  against  the  drab  and  dull,  to  our  passionate 
quest  of  the  colorful  and  joyful,  to  our  curiosity  about  the 
exotic,  to  the  unrest  and  vague  dread  that  possess  us  as  \ve 
turn  from  the  safe  and  stupid  road  we  have  been  traveling, 
uncertain  yet  where  runs  the  path  we  seek.  But  at  least  we 
have  turned,  we  are  seeking,  and  the  Russian  ballet,  though  it 
hardly  ever  touches  the  spiritual  depths  or  whispers  to  the  soul, 
does  fling  out  the  colorful  banners  of  emotional  and  aesthetic 
Kberation,  which  we  gladly  follow. 

And  of  all  the  dancers  who  have  come  to  us  from  Russia, 
most  gladly  do  we  follow  her  who  has  gone  farthest  and  has 
most  surely  captivated  our  hearts,  Anna  Pavlowa — the  incom- 
parable, the  exquisite !  What  delicate  beauty  and  simple  grace, 
in  a  ballet  like  Coppelia;  what  thrilling  dramatic  intensity, 
rising  to  the  symbolic,  in  the  Bachanal !  That  was  a  dance  of 
dances — glorious  madness  of  wine  in  the  veins  of  youth,  deliri- 
ous  and  perilous  passion,  floods  of  wildness  liberating  vigorous 
Umbs,  inspired  command  of  impetuous  and  languorous  steps, 
head'tossings  and  arm-wavings,  one  long,  sweet,  wild,  ecstatic 
celebration  of  the  joy  of  life  !  And  Pavlowa,  being  an  artist  of 
keenest  intelligence  and  highest  sincerity  and  courage,  has  de- 
veloped  her  art  in  suppleness  and  significance,  out  of  artifice, 
into  freedom,  grace  and  power. 

What  the  future  of  this  art  of  the  dance  will  be  is  by  no 
means  clear.  For  all  who  have  seen  Isadora  Duncan  and  the 


XIV  ON  WITH  THE  DANCE 

exquisite  company  of  young  girls  inspired  and  moulded  by  her, 
life  and  its  purposes  and  possibilities  are  charged  with  greater 
meaning.  The  color,  the  spirit  of  the  Russian  Ballet,  stimulated 
to  a  freer  and  more  powerful  achievement,  has  entered  into 
our  modem  life.  Schools  of  a:sthctic  dancing  have  multiplied 
and  do  not  lack  patrons.  Art,  however,  is  at  home  only  in  two 
places — the  mind  of  the  great  artist  or  the  communal  mind  of 
a  social  organism  which  is  socially  and  communally  conscious. 
Much  of  the  a:sthetic  dancing  taught  in  schools  and  patronized 
by  the  artistically  ambitious  is  of  a  quality  to  astonish  Terpsi' 
chore,  for  here  the  fatuous  and  the  foolish  will  rush  in  where 
angels  fear  to  tread.  Folk-dancing,  too,  is  often  taught  our  child- 
ren by  such  singularly  unimaginative  females  that  the  youthful 
sense  of  humor  is  touched  rather  than  the  youthful  imagination. 
Nevertheless  we  may  expect  encouraging  results  from  the  efforts 
of  the  aesthetic  schools,  while  folk-dances,  being  in  essence  spon- 
taneously conventionalized  modes  for  the  rhythmic  expression 
of  simple  emotions,  must  have  their  far-reaching  effect  too. 
Indeed  even  the  present-day  ballroom  dances  partake  of  the 
new  spirit.  There  is  a  thrill  of  rhythm  and  a  touch  of  grace  in 
them;  they  are  real  dances,  capable  perhaps  of  far-reaching 
development. 

But  tor  the  dance  as  a  great  art,  what  is  the  prospect?  Is 
it  to  stay  with  us,  like  music?  Is  it,  like  the  opera,  the  concert 
and  the  recital,  to  be  one  of  the  justifications  of  our  greater 
cities  in  "the  season?"  Has  this  art  truly  been  restored  to  us? 
It  is  still  battling  for  its  place.  Do  we  want  it — enough  of 
us  to  give  it  a  living?  No  answer  that  the  world  will  give  to 
any  question  of  the  arts  in  the  coming  decades  will  be  more 
important  than  the  answer  to  this. 

For  through  the  dance,  if  at  all,  rhythm  will  return  to  life. 


ON  WITH  THE  DANCE  xv 

Under  the  spell  of  one  of  the  great  dancers,  who  has  not  felt  a 
tumult  of  longing  to  dance — to  run  and  leap  and  toss  the  arms 
for  joy,  to  confess  our  melancholy  in  slow  and  swaying  rhythms? 
It  is  a  human  function — a  vital  need — a  primal  desire  invin^ 
cibly  inhering  in  the  fibre  of  each  stolid  and  conventional  one 
of  us.  We  had  securely  hidden  the  secret  beneath  our  conven' 
tional  behaviors ;  but  now  we  yearn  for  a  new  and  Hberated 
order  in  which  w^e  may  indeed  dance.  Then  we  go  out  into 
the  complexity  and  ugliness  of  the  life  that  rushes  by  in  our 
streets ;  we  become  aware  of  our  clothes,  w^hich  bind  and  weigh 
us  down,  and  could  not  flutter  in  the  breezie  nor  take  a  beautiful 
life  from  swaying  limbs  and  running  feet ;  we  remember  the 
tragic  disunion  of  the  social  order,  the  absence  of  communal 
spirit. 

But  the  dance,  the  opener  of  the  doors  of  rhythm,  has  come 
to  our  door  on  eager  feet.  She  bids  us  awake  to  her  master  spell. 
She  whispers  to  us  the  secret  we  lost  in  the  Golden  Age,  that 
life  can  attain  happiness  only  through  rhythm.  A  community 
that  could  dance  together  could  not  be  divided  by  injustice  and 
hatred.  She  speaks,  to  be  sure,  in  terms  not  of  years,  but  of 
centuries.  It  were  better  for  us,  at  least,  not  to  scoff.  The 
future  no  man  readeth ;  but,  in  gratitude  to  those  great  artists 
who  have  come  to  us  with  this  chalice,  let  us  cry  On  With 
the  Dance! 

Pictorial  art,  which  has  the  privilege  and  duty  of  ministering 
to  the  other  arts,  has  done  but  ill  heretofore  in  behalf  of  the 
dance.  There  have  been  many  deHcate  sketches  made  and 
some  really  fine  photographs,  but  these  have  not  been  widely 
available,  and  the  best  books  on  the  dance  have  been  calami- 
tously illustrated.  Now  at  last  this  deficiency  on  the  pictorial 
side  has  been  supplied.  The  latest  of  the  arts,  photography,  has 


xvr  ON  WITH  THE  DANCE 

been  used  by  one  ot'its  greatest  masters  to  give  the  world  a 
definite,  coherent,  illuminating  record  of  the  modern  art  of 
the  dance. 

Arnold  Genthe,  who  during  many  years  has  used  the  cam' 
era  with  signal  success  for  making  pictures  of  w^hat  his  vision 
and  imagination  perceived  in  the  realities  before  him,  w^as  in' 
cieed  the  ideal  man  to  record  the  features  of  the  dance  in  this 
day.  To  vast  resources  of  knowledge  and  superior  intellect, 
Dr.  Genthe  adds  that  keen  sensitiveness  and  unquenchable 
enthusiasm  which  enable  him  to  approach  and  pursue  his  prob' 
iem  with  rare  subtlety  and  devotion.  He  has  given  us  a  great 
and  beautiful  book. 

Here  is  motion  made  immortal.  The  common  pictorial  error 
of  arrested  motion — motion  cut  into  bits,  petrified,  mocked 
and  denied — that  you  will  not  find  here;  but  motion  as  it 
flows  and  is,  as  it  creates  and  is  created.  Here  are  magic  designs 
suddenly  made  by  the  human  body — ephemerae  were  it  not 
for  this  record,  rare  impressions  of  ecstasy  conveyed  in  vague, 
ethereal  outlines  of  body  and  drapery.  Here  is  the  poignancy 
and  majesty  of  the  first  of  all  arts — significant  gesture — gesture 
charged  with  what  speechless  emotion — here  mirrored,  not  imi' 
tated;  here  not  dead,  but  living.  And  the  beauty  of  the  human 
body,  the  divine  human  instrument  of  this  art,  is  revealed  with 
ineffable  tenderness. 

It  is  a  trite  phrase  among  us  that  there  is  nothing  more 
beautiful  than  this  our  body;  a  trite  phrase,  but  hew  deeply 
do  we  believe  it,  how  much  do  we  care,  how  do  we  honor  it  ? 
The  twin  vices.  Fashion  and  Prudery — feigned  enemies,  at 
which  the  Devil  laughs — have  eliminated  the  human  body  as 
a  thing  of  beauty  in  human  life.  Of  old  they  cast  out  devils 
on  the  rack;  but  we  cast  out  beauty  with  the  scourge  of  self' 


ON  WITH  THE  DANCE  xvii 

righteousness.  We  have  pretended  to  set  our  minds  on  so 
high  a  plane  that  they  are  unaware  of  the  body,  and  to  enter 
the  realm  of  exalted  thought  we  insist  on  making  ourselves 
ghosts. 

We  do  not  consider  with  solicitude  how  the  body  may  be 
made  a  part  of  our  arts  and  a  constant  inspiration  to  our  days ; 
and  perhaps  the  Creator  of  its  flaming  beauties,  the  Moulder 
of  its  thrilling  lines,  the  Fashioner  of  its  supple  Hmbs,  the  First 
Lover  of  its  warmth  and  passion,  has  grown  tired  of  weeping 
at  our  folly.  Or  perhaps  He  bideth  a  better  time.  The  spirit 
of  beauty  is  imperative  and  eager;  once  she  is  ready  to  grant 
a  new  vision  of  herself,  she  will  not  cease  knocking  at  our  un^ 
willing  doors. 

Meanwhile  we  have  the  dance  vital  again  among  us ;  we 
have  these  pictures  of  Arnold  Genthe's,  these  pictures  even  of 
the  body  itself,  not  as  a  pale  symbol  or  a  cold  study,  but  as  a 
living  instrument  of  art,  made  to  dance  and  be  seen  and  pictured 
dancing.  And  we  have  the  hope,  nay  the  promise  of  a  future 
which,  because  of  the  devotion  and  genius  of  such  dancers  and 
such  picture-makers,  will  be  very  different  from  the  future  that 
prudery  and  materialism  dream. 


I 

ISADORA  DUNCAN  SCHOOL 


[page  TWENTY'ONEJ 


[page  TWENTV'THREEJ 


[  PACE  TWENTY-MVE  ] 


f  rAC.E  TWFNTY -SEVEN  ] 


[page  twenty-nine] 


[pa(;e  thirty-one] 


[pace  thirty-three] 


[page  thirty-five] 


[rA(;E  THIRTY-SEVEN  ] 


(page  thirty-nine] 


[pace  forty-one] 


[  PACE  FORTV-THREE  ] 


[  PAGE  FORTY -five] 


II 

MAUD  ALLAN 


[  PAGE  FORTV'MNE  ] 


Ill 

RUTH  ST.  DENIS  AND  HER  SCHOOL 


[page  fifty-seven  ] 


J^ . 


f  PAf.E  FIFTY' NINE  ] 


[  PAGE  5IXTV-ONE  ] 


[page  sixty-three] 


[  PAGE  SIXTY-FIVE  1 


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FACE  SIXTY-SEVEN 


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[pace  SEVtNTV-NINE  ) 


II; 


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IV 
LADY  CONSTANCE  STEWART-RICHARDSON 


[page   NINETV'ONeI 


[  PAGE  NINETY-THREE  ] 


1 


f  PACE  N'INETY-FIVE  ] 


V 

LILLIAN  EMERSON 


[  PAGE  NINETY-NINE  ] 


[  PACE  t)NE  HUNPKEl)  AND  ONE  ] 


[page  one  hundred  and  three] 


(pace  one  hunureo  and  five] 


VI 
LOIE  FULLER  DANCER 


[PAI-.E  ONE  HUNDRED  AND  NINe] 


VII 
THE  MORGAN  DANCERS 


[page  one  hundred  and  thirteen] 


[  PAGE  ONE  HUNDRED  AND  FIFTEEN  J 


-—r":^ 


i 


[Pi^GE  ONE  HUNDRED  AND  SEVENTEEN  ] 


f  PAGE  ONE  HUNDRED  AND   NINETEEN  ] 


VIII 
SPANISH  DANCERS 


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I  II  miimi  I  Mil    I  ■■  !■ 


[page  one  hundred  and  twenty-seven] 


IX 
THE  NOYES  SCHOOL 


[page  one  hundred  and  THIRTY'ONe] 


[page  one  hundred  and  thirty-three] 


[page  one  hundred  and  thirty-five] 


PACE  ONE  HUNDRED  AND  THIRTY-SEVEN 


[page  one  hundred  and  thirty-nine] 


i 


I  TAGT    ONE  HUNDRED  AND  fORTV-ONE] 


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X 

CLASSIC  DANCERS 


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[page  one  hundred  and  fifty-one] 


[page  one  hundred  and  riFTY  three] 


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^^&sa. 


H 


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PAGE  ONE  HUNDRED  AND  SIXTY-THREE 


[  PAGE  ONE  HUNDRED  AND  SIXTY-FIVE  ] 


[page  one  hundred  and  sixty-seven] 


XI 
ANNA  PAVLOWA 


[  PAGE  ONE  HUNDRED  AND  SEVENTY'ONE  | 


[page  one  hundred  and  seventy-three] 


[page  one  hundred  and  seventy-five] 


I  PAGE  ONE  HUNDRED  AND  SEVENTY-SEVEN  J 


PAGE  ONE  HUNDRED  AND  SEVENTY'NINE 


[page  one  hundred  and  eighty-five] 


(  PAGE  ONE  HUNDRED  AND  EIGHTY-SEVEN  ] 


[page  one  hundred  and  ek.hty  nine] 


XII 
THE  BIYAR  SCHOOL 


[pace  one  hundred  and  ninetv-three] 


[page  one  hundred  and  ninety-five] 


[page  one  hundred  and  kinetv-seven] 


[page  one  hundred  and  ninety-nine] 


[  PAGE  TWO  HUNDRED  AND  ONE  ] 


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[page  two  hundred  and  seven] 


[  PAGE  TWO  HUNDRED  AND  NINE  ] 


XIII 
ECLECTIC  DANCERS 


[page  two  hundred  and  thirteen] 


[page  two  hundred  and  fifteen] 


[  PAGE  TWO  HUNDRED  AND  SEVENTEEN   ] 


[  PAGE  TWO  HUNDRED  AND  NINETEEN  ] 


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^^ifEs?"  <-.  «H| 


[page  two  hundred  and  twenty-five  I 


I  PAGE  TWO  HUNDRED  AND  TWENTY-SEVEN  ] 


INDEX  . 

Allan,  Maud  49 

Anna  (Duncan  School)  23,  25,  27 

Bayne,  William  183,  185 
Biyar,  Hilda                                                 84  (Color),  193-201 

Carling,  Hilda  i33 

Cowan,  Rose  119 

Cramer,  Ruth  i35 

Cushing,  Jessie  213 

Daphne  146  (Color) 

Dibblee,  Inez  73^  75 

Duncan,  Isadora  37,  39 

Emerson,  Lillian  99-105 

Erika  (Duncan  School)  35 

Faulkner,  Florence  B.  87 

Fontaine,  Evan  B.  217,  223-227 

Freeman,  Helen  41 

Fuller,  La  Loie  (School)  109 

Guerra,  Inez  de  la  12s; 

Herendeen,  Helen  203 

Irma  (Duncan  School)  21,  23,  33 

Liesel  (Duncan  School)  29,  31 


INDEX 


Lopokowii,  LyJiii 

Maitland,  Sibyl 

Marcellus,  Irene 

McLean,  Josephine 

Mignon  (Isabel  Rodriguez) 

Moore,  Dulce 

Morgan  Dancers 

Munson,  Audrey 

Murray,  Mae 

Namara,  Marguerite 

Noyes,  Florence  Fleming 

Pavlowa,  Anna 

Rottenthal,  Irmgard  von 

Rublee,  Juliet  Barrett 

St,  Denis,  Ruth 

Stewart'Richardson,  Lady  Constance 

Vaughan,  Edith 

Zamora,  Andrea 


187 

77'8i 

167 

113,  117,  215 

124  (Color),  127 

113,  115 
113-119 

189 
221 

43 

131,  137 

171-179 

141 

Frontispiece  (Color),  45 

54  (Color),  55-67 

91-95 

207,  209 

69,  71,  182  (Color) 


University  of  California 

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Return  this  material  to  the  library 

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APR  1  V  2006 


rv 


0     000  337  362 


